


Ballpoint

by millionstar



Category: Muse
Genre: Language, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millionstar/pseuds/millionstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two men. One writing instrument. Ridiculousness ensues. <a href="http://i877.photobucket.com/albums/ab333/denieset/belldom2.jpg">Inspired by this photo that was unleashed on us yesterday, among others.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Ballpoint

**Author's Note:**

> I blame those pics. Completely.

**Title:** Ballpoint  
 **Author:** [](http://millionstar.livejournal.com/profile)[**millionstar**](http://millionstar.livejournal.com/)  
 **Pairing:** Belldom  
 **Rating:** NC-17 to be safe, I guess.  
 **Warnings:** Implied smut,language.  
 **Summary:** Two men. One writing instrument. Ridiculousness ensues. [Inspired by this photo that was unleashed on us yesterday, among others.](http://i877.photobucket.com/albums/ab333/denieset/belldom2.jpg)  
 **Feedback:** Always appreciated, but please, just enjoy!  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Muse, no profit is being made and this is fiction.  
 **Beta/Support:** As always, [](http://dolce-piccante.livejournal.com/profile)[**dolce_piccante**](http://dolce-piccante.livejournal.com/) & [](http://waltzingstar.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://waltzingstar.livejournal.com/)**waltzingstar** , thank you both SO much!  
 **Author's Note:** I blame those pics. Completely.

I'm sure that Matt knew in the instant that the ink began to saturate one of my favorite shirts that retribution would be swift and deadly. And to be honest, in this case, I think he thought that my attempt to write on his neck was the retribution in question, poor fucker. He's not as suave as he thinks he might be, no matter what he says.

But this is Matthew Bellamy, and somehow I've let him charm his way into my hotel bed. Well, I say "let him" but really it was my idea. Stop looking at me like that, have you looked at the bastard lately? All leather and skin and blue eyes and perfection? Yeah, I thought so. Anyway, thoughts of retribution floated away in the presence of panted breaths and sweat soaked skin and now we find ourselves wrapped up in each other as well as expensive hotel bedsheets.

"What?" he breathes, still smiling as I trail my lips over his shoulder and across his collarbone until I reach the spot I'd been aiming for earlier with the marker.

"Just looking. You still have a bit of ink on your neck." I lick my thumb and try to rub the barely there bit of black from his skin but it won't budge.

Matt leans into my touch. "What kind of ink was that, anyway? It's like atomic ink from another world or something."

"It's just ink, ordinary, boring Earth ink."

"What were you going to write?" he asks suddenly. "On me, I mean."

"Ballsack."

"Really?"

"No! I don't know," I laugh, "I was just winding you up!"

"What would you write on me if you had the chance to again?"

"Is that a challenge?"

Matt grins at me and throws the sheets off his body, revealing every pristine inch of himself; I raise my eyebrows, curious as to what he's planning. He sits up momentarily, retrieving a ball point pen from the bedside table and tosses it to me. He throws himself back down onto the bed breathlessly and waves his hand towards me, then to his naked body.

"Do it. I trust you."

I have to smile for two reasons at this point: one being that I love him, and the other being that he has no idea what he's just gotten himself into.

There are so many body parts I could choose to point out that at first I don't know which one to go with. Then the sound of Matt's stomach growling breaks the romantic reverie and makes us both snort. I pat his small belly condescendingly and that's when the light bulb goes off in my head; I remove the cap from the pen and begin working.

I draw four arrows on all sides of his navel, the direction pointing inward on each one. He snorts in laughter and twitches, his hips fighting me the whole time but finally I succeed. Just above his happy trail I've written two words:

**grape server**

"What's it say?" he asks, still giggling and attempting to swat my hand away. Matt squints and his eyes light up even more as he finally gets the reference, his giggles morphing into full out insane laughter.

_"M'tired."_

_"Matt, we're on a boat. We have the most amazing fishing equipment, the fucking sun is hanging fucking high in-"_

_"The fucking sky?" he interrupts politely, in an attempt to be helpful._

_"Yes. And all you want to do is sleep?!"_

"Fucking _sleep. And eat," he reminds me, reaching for another one of the green grapes he'd been munching on all afternoon. "Shit," he mutters as it rolls down his chest, landing squarely in his navel. Never mind that we are in a lush tropical setting or the fact that I'm wearing a tight black swimsuit that is cutting off circulation to my balls, no, of all the things that he could choose to comment on in this moment in time, that piques his interest._

"Huh. Would you fucking look at that? Fucker's not going anywhere now."

His laziness is as amusing as it is irritating. "You gonna save that grape for hard times or something?"

"Maybe."

It's so ridiculous and silly, and primarily because his skin is distracting when on display so completely, but I find myself kneeling at his side suddenly and capturing the grape between my lips.

Matt shrieks jumps a mile and I smirk as I chew.

"That was a great fishing trip."

"It was also the one where nobody did any fishing." I remind him, tossing the pen back to him.

"No time for fishing when you have grapes and an endless supply of baby oil."

He pounces, leaning in for a kiss or seven, his lips soft and moist against mine, his hands in my hair. Just as abruptly he releases me, pen poised. He wrinkles his forehead in concentration, then presses the point of the pen to one of my nipples and I suddenly begin to get very nervous.

"Waitwaitwait, Matt."

"I'm not gonna mark on it, Christ, Dom, keep your panties on."

"They're not panties," I remind him with a huff, "they're stylish briefs, thank you very much." He scribbles daintily on the skin surrounding my nipple, the tip of the pen scratching my skin to the point of pain for a moment. But then Matt sits up and admires his handiwork and I attempt do to the same. He's drawn a single arrow, pointed at my nipple, and has written next to it in his incredibly messy hand:

**tongue magnet**

"Well played," I purr, pulling him up for a kiss, Matt tossing the pen to the side.

_"OhmygoditticklesMattstop-ooooohhhh..."_

_He's not listening to me, instead he's choosing to continue his torture, his tongue lapping steadily at my nipple. Occasionally he will gift it with a kiss, which sends me into a crazy frenzy._

_"Wh-where did you learn that this feels so good?" I breathe, keeping my eye on my bedroom door, lest my older sister walks in on us. I had to beg mum to let Matt come over after school for what she thinks is a studying session._

_It's not exactly like I lied. This really can be classified as research._

Awesome _research._

"Read it somewhere," he mumbles, snagging it between his teeth then looking up at me to gauge my reaction. He must like what he sees: my face red, hair a mess and sweating, for he attacks the other one with just as much fervor. "I could do this all day, Dom. It's like your nipples are a magnet for my tongue or something. I'm obsessed with them." He sits up, blinking. "What if I actually die if I can't suck on them every single day?"

He glances at me for a beat, the two of us laughing. I pull him down for another kiss. "Let's make sure you never have to find out."

"I can't believe you remembered that," I whisper, kissing along his cheek.

"Of course I remembered that," is his reply as he turns his head to capture my lips properly again, "I remember everything about the time we've spent together."

"And yet you forgot the lube tonight. You are a conundrum in the form of a human male."

"Conundrum? You been reading the dictionary again?"

"Fuck you. Gimme the pen." I slide down the bed, delivering nibbles and sucks to all the skin I encounter along the way, stopping pointedly to deliver a bite to the skin along his hip. As he's done so many times over the years he allows his legs to fall open. When he does, I quickly write:

**stairway to heaven**

along his inner thigh, kissing each word loudly. I lift my head and allow Matt to see my handwritten proclamation and he rolls his eyes, amused.

_"I wanna name your dick."_

"You wanna what my what?"

"I wanna name your dick, Matt," I reply, stretching in the bunk as the tour bus travels through the snowy night.

"Um-"

"I love your dick, Matt."

"I'm rather fond of my dick too, thanks."

"Let's name it."

"Dom, it's two in the morning and I'm tired. Can we name my dick tomorrow? I'll ask Tom to schedule a press release and everything."

"I'll name it Heaven," I sigh happily, the alcohol buzzing pleasantly through my body. "Matt's dick is heaven, cause every time I touch it I hear angels singing."

"Precisely how shitfaced are you right now?"

"I'm not as think as you drunk I am. I'm telling you, man, your dick is heaven," I insist, drooling into his neck. "Heaven, man."

"Okaaaaaay," he replies, and I think I can hear him chuckle, although I have no idea why he thinks this is funny. This is serious shit, right here. "Then what are my balls?"

"S'easy. Lefty and Righty."

"I see."

"Oh, oh," I say, excitedly as I attempt to sit up, only to hit my head, "and your thighs are the Stairway to Heaven! Get it, Matt? Get it? Do you?"

"That night was the first time that you ever threw up on my crotch. Ah, memories," Matt sighs wistfully, batting his eyelashes at me.

"I'm just glad you recorded it on your phone for posterity. And that I was able to successfully erase it when you weren't looking."

He attacks me with tickles for that little shot and two blowjobs later we're recovering silently when Matt pics up the pen and pins my arm against the bed. The tip travels along my skin and as he moves further up my body I feel like I have a pretty good idea of where he is going with this. So it's not really a surprise that I find:

**wicked and divine**

written along the edge of my armpit.

_"You're so full of shit," I laugh. "Next thing I know you'll be saying you wrote a song about me."_

"Who says I haven't?"

"What?"

"Have you ever paid attention to the lyrics of Undisclosed Desires?"

"You're shitting me."

Matt merely shrugs and sips his drink, a glint forming in his eye.

"Okay, I'll play. What is Undisclosed Desires really about?"

"Your armpits."

"Oh my God," I reply, "you have lost your mind." He's not always the most forthcoming when it comes to his lyrics. That's something I've accepted over the years but now he's got me intrigued.

"It's open for interpretation," he shrugs, squeezing my hand as we share a decadent tiramisu "and I choose to interpret it as such."

"I see Dom's armpits, and they're wicked and diviiiiiiiine," he sings, sounding much better than that ridiculous line should have any right to. "He lets me lick them, when we're fucking every tiiiiiime." He wrinkles his nose. "Fuck, that's horrible."

"You vant me to sing it to you again, my leetle undizclosed dezire?" Matt murmurs against the skin of my underarm, his tongue dragging through the hair there.

"No," I say quickly, gasping as his mouth delivers one last wet kiss to my armpit, "and what kind of accent is that? I think you just bastardized two different languages there."

"Fuck if I know. I'm knackered. So," Matt says, our lips meeting once again, "we're gonna have to wash this off, wanna shower tonight or in the morning?"

"Let's wait," I turn out the lights and pull him to me, Matt nuzzling my neck, pressing his lips to it. "I like the thought of Stairway to Heaven on your thigh being the first thing I see in the morning."

"The first thing? You gonna fall asleep on my crotch?"

"If you ask nicely," I shoot back as Matt spoons me tightly, his breath tickling the back of my neck sweetly.

Just before I fall asleep my eyes scan the clothes we threw around the room haphazardly in our haste to get naked. Trousers, shoes, socks (well, mine at least) and shoes are strewn everywhere, but folded neatly on top of my bag is the shirt I had on earlier tonight, the shoulder Matt wrote on clearly visible.

It reads:

**property of MB**

And it's true. 


End file.
